


The Tie That Binds Us

by spoowriterfic



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoowriterfic/pseuds/spoowriterfic
Summary: Nicole and Waverly are soulmates; the show has shown us this.  In this story, we go just a little bit further and take that bond just a little bit deeper.(There are spoilers for the entire show, up to the season 3 finale here, as well as some slight speculation for what might come next.)





	The Tie That Binds Us

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not really sure where this came from, besides a flurry of "I don't want to fill out report cards" procrastination. I like the idea of Nicole and Waverly's story being a love-at-first-sight soulmates kind of thing, especially after the episode in the alternate reality basically saying that's exactly what they are.
> 
> I don't often write in present tense, but it's kind of my go-to when I want something to feel immediate/more personal.

She knows before Wynonna even says a word.

 

She’s known from the moment she woke up, bound and gagged in the back of a truck, Jeremy’s head thumping against her ankle in time with the jolts on the road and Robin’s elbow digging into her side.

 

She’s known because of the aching, empty _hollowness_ in her stomach.

 

Waverly’s gone.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“How did you…?” Waverly gasps one night at the Homestead when she opens the door to see Nicole there with a gentle, reassuring smile on her face, a bag of takeout in one hand, and a bonus blanket from her house – Waverly’s favorite, the quilt that usually sits on the back of her couch – slung over her other arm.

 

Nicole shrugs, a little uncomfortable. “I just…knew you needed me.”

 

“But _how_?” Waverly says as she follows her inside, putting down the takeout and the blanket.

 

“It’ll sound crazy, Waves,” she says as she wraps her arms around her shaken and bruised girlfriend. Later she’ll find out what has drawn her out into the night after a long day of her own. She’ll find out that a Revenant came close – so close, _too_ close – and that while Wynonna is off drinking off the terror (not that she’ll admit to feeling any), Waverly has sought refuge in Nicole’s arms.

 

But for now, explaining it – explaining _any_ of it, explaining that she thinks they share something she read about as a confused thirteen-year-old trying to figure out why all her friends were getting crushes on the boys in class or boy band singers or movie stars and she… _wasn’t_ , explaining something she never, ever thought could exist in real life – it’s inconceivable.

 

 Waverly pulls back at that, an eyebrow raised skeptically.  “We live in _Purgatory_. Nothing sounds crazy.”

 

Nicole has to laugh, but she still remains silent otherwise, drawing Waverly with her into the kitchen, where she puts the food she brought into the oven to heat up and starts boiling water for tea.  She’s the open-minded sort about the paranormal – always has been – and, as Waverly said, she lives in Purgatory.  But somehow, now that she’s faced with explaining…

 

…it just sounds…

 

…crazy.

 

Because it can’t be real.

 

It was just something someone made up to write sappy stories to post on the Internet.

 

Right?

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

They will never remember much about that other world – just flashes, here and there, and in Nicole’s case a vague, disturbing memory of unending, hopeless longing.

 

And something about pickles.

 

But she can’t ignore the thought anymore.

 

Because she’d _loved_ Waverly – fully, deeply, completely.

 

Hopelessly.

 

Well, maybe not hopelessly.

 

But close to it.

 

Still, the connection was there, even if Waverly had never grown bold enough, secure enough in herself, to do anything about it and now she’s left to wonder in a way she’s never allowed herself to seriously contemplate before…

 

…in a world where demons and angels and curses and vampires are real…why _can’t_ soulmates be real too?

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Are you okay?” Nicole says as soon as Waverly answers her call.

 

There’s a pause, then an exhale that sounds halfway between a laugh and a sob. “How did you know?”

 

It’s not the first time this has happened. In fact, it’s happened enough that she’s pretty damn sure she’s not imagining it.

 

It’s why she called in the first place.

 

“I….” Her courage fails her; despite the aching, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach – the feeling she is now virtually certain means _Waverly is hurt_ or _Waverly’s in danger_ or _Waverly’s sad_ – this isn’t a conversation to have over the phone. “Just a hunch,” she says, deflecting. “What’s wrong, baby?”

 

“She left. Mama left.”

 

Nicole’s stomach drops, this time of its own accord.

 

She’s already out the door and halfway to her car as Waverly adds in a whisper, “She left. Again.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“What’s wrong?” Waverly says without preamble as she picks up the phone, and Nicole’s heart lurches because what if Waverly has noticed the pattern too?

 

But there’s no time right now for _that_ discussion.

 

“It’s Charlie.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

She claws her way to consciousness amidst the rumbling of a truck engine and two very male snores. She groans and rolls over, dislodging her companions as she moves, then gasps and folds nearly in two, drawing her knees up to her stomach when her subconscious finally catches up with her and the gaping, yawning _emptiness_ in her heart where she now realizes Waverly always was makes itself known.

 

_Waverly!_ her thoughts howl, but the only sound that makes it past the gag in her mouth is a quiet whimper.

 

She’s gone.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

She dreams of Waverly.

 

Sometimes the dreams are so vivid that she wakes up convinced she can smell Waverly’s perfume.

 

In her dreams, she’s somewhere warm, thank God, but her arm…hurts.  Nicole wakes up thinking it’s probably broken.

 

For just a second, she’s convinced her own arm is broken too.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Wynonna and Nedley rescue them a couple days later.  Wynonna, quiet and hesitant and _guilty_ , says only, “It took her.”

 

“I know,” Nicole says, and refuses to explain how or why.

 

She’s not sure she could, even if she wanted to.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Wynonna offers her Waverly’s room.

 

She refuses to enter it.

 

She doesn’t sleep at all that night.  Every instinct in her body is drawing her out into the woods; twice, she’s on the porch before she even realizes she got up from the couch, and once she makes it almost to the mailbox before she realizes what she’s doing.  Something is calling her, and she’s almost forced to ask Wynonna to tie her up to keep her from heading off into the night alone.

 

As the sun comes up, she realizes that empty feeling is gone.

 

She realizes what – _who_ – has been calling her all night.

 

Waverly is…somewhere.

 

Waverly, who last night was just…nowhere…is now _somewhere._

 

And with that realization, the churning worry in her stomach coalesces into something she understands.

 

It’s Waverly.

 

She’s terrified and in pain and in terrible danger, and Nicole no longer questions how she knows any of that, but she’s _somewhere_.

 

She’s _somewhere_.

 

She yells for Wynonna, desperately grabbing any weapons she can find, hastily explaining that they _have to go_. Now. Immediately. Faster than immediately. Wynonna eyes her for a moment, then shrugs.

 

They take the truck; Nicole isn’t sure she can drive.

 

She _is_ sure that she _shouldn’t_.

 

They fly over unpaved trails, unused dirt tracks that don’t deserve the word ‘road.’ They end up so far into the woods in the wilderness beyond Purgatory that it feels almost as though they’re in another world.

 

Maybe they are.

 

“This way!” Nicole gasps, pointing to the right as that tug in her belly pulls tighter and tighter.

 

Then: “Stop!” she orders suddenly, throwing the door to the truck open before the wheels stop squealing. Wynonna follows, hot on her heels, as they run and run and –

 

Nicole feels every muscle in her body turn to jelly as that emptiness inside is suddenly filled with warmth and light and Waverly.

 

“Hi,” Waverly says.

 

She collapses to her knees, breathing Waverly’s name as though it were a prayer.

 

But a part of her still notices Waverly is cradling an injured arm to her body, and she decides: there’s no denying it anymore.

 

It’s not coincidence.

 

She’s not imagining it.

 

There’s a bond between them, as real and as tangible as the ring nestled in Nicole’s pocket.

 

It’s _real_.

 

And yet, she pushes the realization to the side for the moment, long enough to look Waverly in the eye and murmur, “ _Yes_ , Waverly. It was a _yes_.”

 

Then they’re hugging, all three of them, on the leaf-littered ground.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Nicole is elated that Waverly’s back, of course, but almost – almost – better is the strength and confidence radiating from her like an aura now that she’s gone and rescued herself.

 

Nicole has always known how strong Waverly is…but now, _finally_ , she thinks Waverly might know too.

 

Because Doc went into the Garden to protect _her_ and she was the one to make it out on her own.

 

It’s Doc who needs rescuing.

 

Which Wynonna does, fairly handily, while Nicole splints Waverly’s arm, drawing a promise from her that this time, she’ll get a real cast and a real sling, and then they all – _all_ – go back to the Homestead.

 

There are reunions and explanations and through it all, Nicole stands silently watching, waiting to test her theory one last time before she has to explain how she found Waverly in the middle of nowhere led only by…

 

…what?

 

She tries one last experiment, one born of that story she’d read online and taken for fantasy so many years ago.

 

She closes her eyes and forms the clearest picture in her head that she can of Waverly and imagines herself wrapping her arms around her.

 

Then she opens her eyes and watches.

 

And she sees the tension melt from Waverly’s shoulders, as her uninjured hand moves up unconsciously to her shoulder. When it doesn’t meet Nicole’s hand where she clearly expects it to be, she frowns and turns.

 

Nicole thinks she can _feel_ Waverly’s confusion.  It pulls her unerringly to Waverly’s back and when her hands settle on Waverly’s shoulders, that knot of confusion in her own stomach dissipates.

 

She _knows_ she can feel Waverly’s love.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“How did you find me?” Waverly asks that night.

 

Nicole is in no mood to dance around any of it.  Not anymore. Not when she has another chance at a life with the love of her life.

 

With her soulmate.

 

“Oh, Waverly,” she says. “I could find you anywhere.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Waverly takes the news well enough, with nothing more than a curious tilt of her head, a slight smile, and a gentle “hmmm.”

 

But over the next couple of weeks, they talk about it a lot.

 

She’s not surprised, not really, not now that she’s really accepted it, to find out Waverly has felt the same things – and for almost as long as she has. She’s felt the same sinking feeling in her stomach when Nicole is suffering in some way. The wash of warmth – like standing under a waterfall in the sun – when they set eyes on each other.

 

The feeling that the universe shifted into place, that everything was finally, finally _right_ , in the moment their hands first touched.

 

Soulmates.

 

“If we didn’t live the lives we do, I’d say it was ridiculous,” Nicole admits. “But I think I lost the ability to be shocked at some point.”

 

“Mm,” Waverly hums – not necessarily agreement, but at least acknowledgement.

 

“In a way, it makes me feel better,” Nicole admits. “Love at first sight sounds so…juvenile. Like I believe in fairy tales or something.”

 

“Well,” Waverly says, unconcerned. “I think for all the awfulness Purgatory throws at us, maybe we’re due some supernatural romance stuff too.”

 

“Yeah, but – ”

 

Waverly silences her with a kiss.  “Okay, how about this? We both had lousy childhoods. Maybe being a little juvenile isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

 

“Hm.”

 

 Waverly smiles and presses a series of kisses to her jaw before she pulls back one more time. “Okay, how about _this_? I love you, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, and I love the idea that we’re really, truly, _actually_ a part of each other.”

 

Well.

 

She can’t argue with that, now can she?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I had Waverly rescue herself. I kind of wish more post-season-3 stories did the same. While it's fun to imagine Nicole charging in like a knight in shining armor to save her girl, or Wynonna saving the world as per usual, I like the idea of giving Waverly that power. 
> 
> I borrowed the mechanics of Nicole and Waverly's bond more or less from Missy Good's Xena fan fiction, which I've been reading since...ahem...1997ish, I think (it was the spring of my first year of college). If you've never read her stories, you can also pretend I borrowed it from the 1980s Linda Hamilton / Ron Pearlman "Beauty and the Beast" TV show, or Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series. Otherwise, just imagine I made it up. :-)
> 
> (For the record, though, the story Baby Nicole found on the Internet when she was trying to figure herself out was one of Missy's, specifically "At a Distance" from which I borrowed the "wait, why did I get up and walk this way?" bits.)


End file.
